At the same moment Shade saw Mr. Asmon, the other man also saw him and recognized this old acquaintance from Coldwater Harbor.
Thus, he walked over
"I didn't expect to meet you here again. Encountering the same person in different locations during one's travels always makes one marvel at the wonders of fate."
The man, dressed in a brown robe, sat opposite Shade, and the two shook hands across the table. The waiter returned to take Mr. Asmon's order; only after the waiter had left did the long-faced man gaze at Shade and speak
"Oh, Mr. Watson, I only realized who you actually were after seeing the news about the Great City players in the newspaper and hearing about Shade Hamilton."
He had likely noticed the Demon card in the Champion deck.
"My apologies, I am actually a detective. Two months ago, I accepted a troublesome commission and had to operate in Coldwater Harbor under the alias John Watson. This time is the same; I've come to Midhillburg for another troublesome commission."
Shade gave a simple explanation of his movements, then leaned forward slightly and asked with interest
"Mr. Asmon, did you eventually find the demon in Coldwater Harbor?"
The surrounding area was boisterous, but no one noticed the two men by the wall discussing something.
"Of course not. There were only the stinking merfolk of legend."
The Delaraion spoken by this "Demonologist" was very stylized; it wasn't that it was non-standard, but rather that it had a strange accent that didn't hinder understanding. Under the pale yellow light of the kerosene lamp on the wall, half of his long face was submerged in darkness.
"But later, I learned some interesting things from the folklorists in Coldwater Harbor, which is why I traveled all this way."
"So, there are demons in Midhillburg?"
Shade asked. Mr. Asmon let out a long "Hmm~" through his nose and nodded gently
"Yes, supposedly a demon related to fire. I've already found that Mount Sicar is a dormant volcano, and the locals have a tradition of fire worship as well as many interesting rumors—such as ghosts in fires, the Primal Fire, the Phoenix, old news of the Fire Festival, and so on and so on. Therefore, I think the demon might be on that mountain."
He had probably mistaken his target again; the origin of the local fire worship tradition was actually the Phoenix, not some demon.
"That sounds very interesting. I wish you success on this journey."
"You are far too polite, Mr. Watson. And why have you appeared on this mountain? A commission related to the Redwater Camp?"
Mr. Asmon rested his right arm on his right leg, leaning his body slightly forward as he asked.
"No, no, I have a friend who is an officer here. Since I happened to come to this city, I thought I'd pay him a visit."
Shade pointed toward the military camp nearby, and while eating, he told Mr. Asmon about the murder case at the Midhillburg Mechanical Academy from a few days ago. Naturally, the protagonist of the story changed from a detective who could see bloodstains to a very wise Captain.
Although this "Demonologist" had been staying at the inn in the Wind-Rise Path Traveler's Camp, he knew about the serial killings in the city through the newspapers. As expected, he was captivated by Shade's story, offering his own opinions as he listened.
Regarding the "occult" knowledge that ordinary people believed in, Mr. Asmon, who studied demonology, had a lot to say. Even when Shade mentioned the bronze pot and the disgusting things stewing inside, Mr. Asmon could explain authoritatively that similar practices existed in rituals for summoning demons.
After finishing the meal, Captain Rades still had not appeared. Mr. Asmon did not leave; instead, he invited Shade to play another game of Rhode cards, while continuing to listen to the story about the demon. This time he had no special cards in his hand, but Shade didn't mind using the game to pass the time.
However, before the two could finish shuffling their respective decks, another stranger approached.
It was a young man who looked travel-worn but still dressed decently, though he likely hadn't washed his hair in a long time, as his short yellow hair was somewhat messy. He looked about three or four years older than Shade's current body, wearing leather boots, a shirt, and a black leather jacket for ease of movement.
Pulling a stool to the table, he asked the two
"Do you two wish to play Rhode cards?"
Judging by the accent, he should be from Carsonrick.
"Yes, sir. Is something the matter?"
Shade asked. Seeing that Shade didn't mind his approach, the travel-worn traveler introduced himself
"I am William Shelley, a poet from Carsonrick. I intend to walk from the southernmost tip of the Old Continent to the northernmost tip. Unfortunately, there was a slight mishap with my travel funds."
He positioned the chair at the table facing the wall and sat down.
"Do you want to play Rhode cards with us to earn some money? Oh, sir, I'm sorry, we don't intend to gamble."
Shade shook his head, actually worried that he might win away the poet's last meal money.
"No, gambling is boring. Interested in betting a special card?"
He asked seriously, then looked at the young detective and the sallow, long-faced Mr. Asmon. Seeing that both looked interested, he reached into his pocket, took out his deck, and showed the top card to the two
【Legend of the Brave: Bard Fletcher】, Suit: Flower 9.
When this card is drawn, if it is the first card, it has no effect. If it is not the first card, and the previous card was of the Flower suit with an even number, this card's value can be adjusted between 9 and 10.
The card art depicted a long-eared poet wearing a hat decorated with long feathers and holding a wood-grained seven-stringed lyre, likely attempting to portray a legendary elf. However, Shade, who was fairly proficient in elven knowledge, could point out at least five details on the card that contradicted elven customs. But considering it was just Rhode card art, there was no need to be so pedantic.
"Let's play together. If I win, you each give me five pounds. If I lose, you may choose to buy this card for 30 pounds. Either way, I'll get my travel funds for the next leg of the trip," the young poet proposed.
"Are you sure this card is genuine?"
The price of this card should be over 60 pounds. The Legend of the Brave series contains fifteen heroes of different classes from ancient stories (thirteen numbers plus the King and Queen). The set was issued about 90 years ago and had been reprinted twice; judging by the patterns on the edges, the one in the poet's hand was a first edition.
"Of course. I won it in Moldi City, Carsonrick, before entering the mountains. I even have a certificate of authenticity in my room," the poet said confidently.
"You've made it all the way here by playing Rhode cards?"
Shade asked curiously.
"Sometimes I lose when luck is bad, but I can earn money by singing and playing in taverns. I have quite a bit of confidence in my voice."
Shade nodded and glanced at the demonologist, Mr. Asmon, sitting opposite him. The latter's black eyes seemed to be fixed on Shade.
"Then, Mr. Watson, I shall not participate. Although I enjoy playing cards, I cannot produce that much cash on short notice."
"One last question. It's only a day's journey from here to Midhillburg. Why not go into the city to sell this card? The Prophet's Association would have no shortage of buyers," Shade asked again.
"I never sell Rhode cards. I am a Rhode card player, not a merchant," the poet said as a matter of course. Shade nodded in agreement.
"Very well, I'll play with you. However, I was just discussing demon legends with Mr. Sean Asmon. I assume you won't mind if I continue talking with Mr. Asmon while we play?"
"Of course not. I am also very interested in your stories."
The poet nodded, but then asked curiously
"I see this gentleman is dressed decently and speaks with extraordinary poise. I wonder what your professions are..."
He had seen that Shade had money, which was why he had come to propose the game.
"I am John Watson, a writer here to gather local material. This is Sean Asmon, a demonologist pursuing knowledge of demons," Shade introduced. The young poet nodded enthusiastically to Mr. Asmon.
"How fascinating. Is a demonologist considered a folklorist? Perhaps your stories can give me more inspiration for my poetry."
"Roughly so," Shade said.
Meanwhile, the long-faced man sitting opposite him was already prepared to tell a story. This was the sequel to the story told previously in Coldwater Harbor—the story of a demon born from calamity that seized everything from humans on the premise of granting their wishes.
As for the game between Shade and the young traveling poet, Mr. Shelley, it proceeded under basic rules: ties didn't count, and it was a best-of-three.
"I do not know what term to use to describe that demon who grants people's wishes."
The demonologist's voice was raspy but powerful. When mentioning the demon, his black eyes narrowed slightly, and a chilling smile curled at the corners of his mouth. Sean Asmon was the type of person who could easily terrify children at night.
Shade and the young poet had already begun the first round. Shade had not added any special cards to his deck, but he was still not worried about the outcome of the game.
Shade's first hidden card was Star 13. Mr. Shelley carefully lifted his card to check the number and couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.
"It once experienced failure because it encountered a person without a wish. But the demon, unwilling to accept defeat, hid within that person's soul, spreading its malice and lies along with him."
"That sounds terrifying," the poet commented simply.
"Aren't the ancient evil spirits in those stories all like that?" Shade said. Then, the two drew their second cards. Shade got Sun 6, bringing his total to 19. He thought for a moment and tapped the table to signal he was staying. Mr. Shelley got Moon 3, and he continued to draw a third card.
"Mr. Watson, your luck is indeed quite good."
"That demon and the wishless man traveled a long way. Malice, lies, war, and plague accompanied them. The wishless man was regarded as the incarnation of calamity by his companions and was driven away by everyone he met, including his own flesh and blood. But he didn't care; he just kept walking forward, walking forward."
"Perhaps he realized he was possessed by a demon," Shade said.
The young poet let out a long sigh and revealed his third card: Moon 11. Unfortunately, his hole card was Flower 10. 10 + 3 + 11 = 24. He busted.
Shade won the first round.
(End of Chapter)